An Alternate Plan
by Saru Wolfe
Summary: Harry finds a certain, if unorthodox, way to defeat the Dark Lord. Little but humor value. Rated Kplus for a bit o' violence.


**Disclaimer: ... Sigh...**

**Author's Note: It's just a little something I got inspiration for while watching OotP. It's neither realistic nor serious. It is fun and rather violent, though.**

Harry took a steadying breath - again - and gripped the handle of his wand in his pocket. Lupin squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. Harry tried to relax, but he couldn't stop fidgeting. _Cut it out!_ he told himself sharply. But it made no difference. He knew that facing Voldemort was bound to put him on edge, but he simply was not able to breathe properly and stop shaking. Lupin smiled at him. "We're ready for this," he said.

That was true. There was a real plan this time, everyone knew what to do, and it was sure to defeat Voldemort at last. That was why they stood boldly on the front lawn of Hogwarts, along with a veritable army of Aurors. This was their moment. Over the summer, Harry had discovered and nurtured a new power. It was an ancient art, nearly as old as magic itself. Voldemort had surely never heard of it. Now, he was certain, it would be the key to Voldemort's defeat.

Dumbledore's voice suddenly filled the air, making Harry start. "They are inside; the wards are sealed." Hundreds of wands were drawn at once. Harry squared his shoulders and marched, leading everyone forward. Within minutes, rows of Death Eaters became visible.

"The boy is mine!" Voldemort bellowed. The ranks split to allow Voldemort and Harry a clear shot at one another. Curses erupted from both sides. As he battled furiously, Harry focused on one thing: he had to get close enough to use his secret weapon. At every opportunity, he edged nearer and nearer. He dodged at a forward angle instead of just to the side. He stepped forward as he flung spells. Eventually, the range got dangerous. Only honed Quidditch reflexes allowed Harry to escape the Dark Lord's curses. After a particularly powerful Killing Curse, Harry rolled forward and sprang to his feet a mere foot and a half from Voldemort. This was exactly the opportunity Harry had been looking for. He held up his wand... and tossed it to the side.

Voldemort, shock reigning on his snakelike features, watched the wand arc through the air and land with a barely audible thud on the ground twenty feet away. Then he turned to his opponent with a malicious grin. "Well, Harry," he hissed softly, "you are..."

Harry never got to figure out what Voldemort thought he was. He grabbed the wrist of Voldemort's wand hand and pulled it toward him as he brought his other elbow into the Dark Lord's torso. The scarlet eyes bulged and Voldemort doubled over and emitted a choked grunt. Harry drove the same elbow upward into Voldemort's face. This forced Voldemort up again, this time with a bloody nose. Harry didn't stop, but placed his hands on Voldemort's shoulders and kneed Voldemort in the groin with crushing force.

Voldemort made a shrill noise not worthy of an evil wizard bent on world domination and collapsed. He glared up at Harry with murderous eyes. "You cheated," he screeched. "You cheated!"

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked conversationally. He brought his knee up to his chest, folding for a kick.

Voldemort recoiled. "Stop it!"

Harry ignored him. "This is..." Side kick to the face. "...an honorable..." Uppercut to the jaw. "...form of combat!" Round kick to the temple.

Voldemort, now looking rather worse for wear, stumbled to his feet. "Don't touch me! You're cheating! I'll show you how to _fight_!" He pointed his wand at Harry.

Harry stepped forward (causing the most feared wizard of the age to cringe) and grasped the wrist of Voldemort's wand arm in one hand and the elbow in the other. In a single fluid motion, he slid around and behind Voldemort, keeping the wand arm in front of him the whole time. He locked Voldemort's arm in what is popularly known as a "chicken wing." Harry twisted the arm cruelly, causing Voldemort to whimper and drop his wand. "You know," Harry told his victim, "this is a very useful arm lock. It's very versatile. You can break the wrist..." _Crack!_ "...or the elbow..." _Crack!_ "...or even the shoulder!" _Crack!_

"Stop!" Voldemort's voice now had an unmistakable pleading whine to it.

Harry let go of him. Voldemort sunk to his knees. "Another interesting fact is this: your elbow is the strongest part of your body." To demonstrate, put his hand on the side Voldemort's head and slammed his other elbow into Voldemort's temple. With a groan, the Dark Lord fell to the ground, unconscious and beaten into a pulp. Harry kicked and stomped on the prone form a few times just for good measure.

There was a scream. Harry looked up. Bellatrix was pointing at Voldemort, screaming her head off. This caught the attention of everyone else. The Death Eaters shared confused glances. At last, Lucius Malfoy made a decision. "Run for it!" The Death Eaters scattered, but not quickly enough. "Expelliarmus!" rang out, and Voldemort's followers were disarmed and soon bound.

Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and Luna ran up to Harry, keeping a safe distance between themselves and the fallen dark wizard. The Aurors gathered around, too.

"Blimey, Harry," Ron said, awed. "What was it _like_?"

Harry considered. "It felt good."

The group digested that information silently. Suddenly, Neville stepped forward and kicked Voldemort in the ribs with all his might. He had reclaimed his place beside Ginny before he realized that everyone was staring at him. "You're right, Harry," he said sheepishly. "That felt good." With that, everyone wanted to be the next to beat the unconscious dark wizard.

Harry noticed Snape eyeing their sport with some distaste. Perhaps it was the thrill of victory that made Harry invite Snape. "Come on, Professor," he said. "You aren't going to pass this up, are you?"

Snape raised an incredulous eyebrow. "I will not lower myself to this barbaric activity, Potter." He looked thoughtful. "However... Everyone _move_!" he barked. The kick-happy crowd parted, bemused. Snape drew his wand and lowered it to point at Voldemort. The people scattered. Snape never spoke an incantation, but slashed his wand furiously in a series of complicated movements. Voldemort's body writhed, convulsed, ascended, and flew fifty feet away, landing with a loud thud and several consecutive snapping sounds. Silence reigned as Snape calmly returned his wand to his pocket. "I've been waiting a while to do that," he commented, smirking. "That _did_ feel good." With that, Snape strode up to the castle, clearly not caring whether the shocked masses followed him or not.

"Well, that's the end of _him_," Kingsley said after a long pause. "I suggest we celebrate."

"I'm _starved_!" Tonks added, and everyone followed them back up to the castle.

Harry extricated himself from his friends and caught up with Moody. "You did good, Potter," the Auror growled.

"Thanks for the karate lessons, Professor Moody."

"Never a professor, was I? Call me Sensei if it makes you feel better."

"No one else would have thought of Shotokan Karate. That was brilliant!"

"You use what weapons are available. Remember that, boy."

Harry was saved the effort of a reply by a plate of food, which was shoved under his nose by Mrs. Weasley. That night was filled with celebration and butterbeer and increasingly heroic stories. The next morning, owls arrived. The news had spread around the nation. Dumbledore let Harry read and reply to them. (Being a hero in public, he had called it - whatever that meant.) The first he opened was from the Minister of Magic, congratulating Harry and asking what curse he had used to finish off You-Know-Who (the use of Voldemort's name was still not wide-spread). Harry grinned and picked up his quill.

_Dear Minister_, he wrote. _Who ever said I had to use magic?_

**It's not cheating. Review!**


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